But rather than give herself any sort of credit for this, Hooker has her doctors to thank, her roommates in basic training, the teachers who helped her along the way — and her mom.

"She was the person that wanted to see you doing something that was a higher aim," Hooker says. "We knew as children, don’t let mama catch you idle. You better have a book in your hand, a pen to write."

Because of this, Hooker has spent the majority of her 103 years learning, teaching, and living out the belief that if you want to see change in the world, you better do it yourself. She’s dedicated her life to serving others with a humility and generosity of spirit that seems, in 2018, almost of a bygone era — an era that she saw and survived firsthand.

When she was 6 years old, Hooker's family — mother, father, three sisters, and one brother — was attacked in the 1921 Tulsa race riot. The "catastrophe," as Hooker calls it, began when a black man named Dick Rowland came in contact with a white woman named Sarah Page in an elevator. It’s likely that he tripped and grabbed her as he fell, but the truth didn’t matter. Rowland was arrested, the story escalated, and the city’s white residents, emboldened by the Tulsa police, terrorized Greenwood. They burned homes and businesses, including Hooker’s father’s clothing store, and killed roughly 300 residents. Greenwood, known as "Black Wall Street" for its collection of black businesses and wealth, was decimated.

"It was devastating," Hooker says, "I did not know about people discriminating because of color. I didn’t know that there were people who hated other people for no reason. It was a distinct shock."

Hooker’s family survived and moved to Topeka, Kansas. They lived near a brick factory, where the sounds of dynamite blowing up the earth for clay reignited Hooker’s memories of the massacre. She says it was years before she could sleep without screaming or having nightmares.

In spite of — or perhaps because of — what she witnessed in Tulsa, Hooker decided to devote herself to making the world a better place. She studied psychology and education at Ohio State University and taught third grade until it was announced that the Navy would allow black women to serve. Hooker had fought for this right along with her sisters in the Delta Sigma Theta sorority, but after a while, she noticed no one seemed to be signing up.

"I thought, if you have fought for a right, as we had campaigned for the Navy to take in black women, then somebody ought to take advantage of it," Hooker says. "So I thought, alright, if nobody else comes up, I’ll try."

Hooker tried to enlist and was rejected twice due to an unexplained "complication." Her third letter, she says, was answered by Navy secretary James Forrestal, who told her she could start at the bottom and work her way up. She claims her sister’s boss at the Government Accountability Office then told her to try the Coast Guard — where she would be one step removed from those in the Navy who viewed her as a "complication."

"The Coast Guard recruiter was very welcoming," she says. "She really wanted to be able to do something for her country by integrating." Hooker knew nothing about the military: She showed up for basic training with her steamer trunk alongside seven white women and their duffel bags. Nevertheless, she would become the first black woman on active duty.

"To me, [the Coast Guard] was a whole new world," she says. "I was really very happy to meet people from other cultures. I’ve always been grateful for the group that I was in in the barracks — I learned a great deal from them. If you keep your eyes open, you can learn something from anyone."

She spent six weeks in basic training, then attended yeoman’s school to learn how to do administrative work for the Coast Guard. She later earned her master’s in psychology from Teacher’s College at Columbia University and a doctorate from the University of Rochester, where she was one of just two black female students. In 1973, Hooker helped found the American Psychological Association’s Division 33, which conducts research and advocates on behalf of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. She also taught psychology for 22 years at Fordham University. One of her greatest accomplishments, she says, is watching her PhD students succeed and give back to their communities, essentially following in her footsteps — though she probably wouldn’t admit this.

"That pleases me a great deal," she says, "because it does mean that you’re trying to make the world a better place."

Hooker’s post-retirement life is exactly what you’d imagine: fierce, nonstop, and selfless. She volunteered with the Coast Guard Auxiliary up until just a few years ago. She's worked with other survivors on the Tulsa Race Riot Commission to develop recommendations for reparations and testified before members of the Congressional Black Caucus. She took part in a class-action lawsuit against the city of Tulsa, its police department, and the state of Oklahoma. As to be expected, none of it was done for the headlines.

"I wasn’t trying to make a name," she says. "I was just trying to be an example."

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